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" And o'er his head, and round the Led, 
By the protecting Fairy led." 



AN OLD FAIRY TALK. 



THE 



SLEEPING BEAUTY. 



BY 



J? 

RICHARD DOYLE and J? R. PLANCHE. 





The Pictures Engraved by t/te Brothers Dalzicl. 



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/ 



LONDON : 
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, 

THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE. 

NEW YORK : 416 BROOME STREET. 

1868. 



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■ W 

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V 




PREFACE. 

Mr. Richard Doyle having made several designs 
from the popular Fairy Tale, " The Sleeping Beauty 
in the Wood," I was requested by the Messrs. 
Dalziel to furnish them with a versification of the 
story to accompany the engravings. The lines in 
italics refer to the woodcuts, to describe which they 
have been expressly written ; and this will account for 
any little variation in detail from the original version. 

J. R. PLANCHE. 



Londok, November, 1865. 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



A Iraulcous face zcith starry eyes, page 

And streaming hair, ivith blossoms wild 
Croicned as a Fairy Queen should be. ........ i 

As much surprised as she to learn 

The Jish she rescued zvas a Fairy. .... ..." ■> 

And, lo ! upon the sands hard by 

She sits and mutters wioodily. ......... 

In a minute she's mounted' arid scudding away 

Over hill, over dale, over lake, over bay. ........ n 

Here at the banquet him behold, 

With Fairy after Fairy jiirting. . . . . , . . . .11 

The seventh has quietly quitted her place, 
And listens, unnoticed, the hangings behind. ... . j 2 

Up started the Queen, zcith a shriek that might 

Have melted a heart of malachite ! ......... j - 

See that Sovereign stand 
At his palace gate. ............ 17 

A castle in the distance rears 

Its battlements grey on a rocky steep. ........ 25 



VI 



List of Illustrations. 



Through the coppice lightly bou?ids 
The stag vproused from his ferny bed. 



27 



And so they filled him a stirrup cup, 

And drinking success to his expedition, 
With loud hurrahs they cheered him up. 

All light and white as a fleecy cloud, 
A female form floats gracefully. 



35 



37 



An aged falconer, haick on hand, 

And a gay young courtier lounging stand. 

The yeomen are sleeping all in a roiv 



■ 38 
• 39 



The butler fallen asleep 
Over a hogshead of Malvoisie. 



40 



Around the great oak table, some eight or ten 
Noble lords and gentlemen. 



41 



A maid of honour taking a nap, 

And near her one of a score of lovers. 



43 



The King reclines in his great arm-chair ,• 
The Queen on his shoulder calmly reposes. 



45 



And o'er his head, and round the bed, 
By the protecting Fairy led. 



Frontispiece. 




" A beauteous face with starry eyes, 

And streaming hair, with blossoms wild 
Crowned as. a Fairy Queen should be" 



AN OLD FAIRY TALE. 



u {~)NCE on a time" — O words of power !- 

Recalling many a charmed hour, 
When, nestled in some quiet nook, 
Clutching the last new Fairy book, 



Introductory . 



The welcome gift of Granddame kind, 
Or — which, perhaps, more pleasure brought— 
" With my own money" proudly bought ! 
Over its magic leaves I leant, 

To all things else deaf, dumb, and blind, 
In mingled awe and wonderment ; 
Devouring each adventure strange, 
Enchanted by each startling change, 
Sharing the childless Queen's concern 

That still the stars should prove contrary, 
As much surprised as she to learn 

The Jish she rescued was a Fairy ! 
And when unwillingly to bed 
From the bewitching volume led, 
With slumber combating in vain, 
What visions crowded on my brain 
Of palaces with countless halls, 
And golden gates, and jasper walls ; 
Gardens where all the flowers were gems, 
Ruby roses with emerald stems ; 
Fountains that danced in the perfumed air, 
And bright forms fluttering everywhere ! 




B 2 



Introductory. 



Then all would melt, and fuse, and fade, 
As heavier down my eyelids weighed, 
And in a misty moonlit glade, 
A beauteous face with starry eyes, 

And streaming hair, with blossoms wild 
Crowned as a Fairy Queen should be, 

Peep through a world of leaves, and smile 
As might a mother on her child ; 
And tiny Sprites in quaintest guise 

Up through the tangled branches climb, 
And leap and swing in elfin glee, 

And 'mid their gambols, all the while 
Make merry mops and mows at me, — 

Once on a time ! — Once on a time ! 



Once on a time ! — Why, even now, 

With seventy winters on my brow, 

I feel the power of the spell, 

And on the pleasant pages dwell 

With all the fresh and dear delight 

That made my boyhood's dream so bright ! 



The Story begins. 



Pages that rivalry defy ! 

Tales which, though centuries sweep by, 

Are new as when they first were told, 

And never, never can be old ! 

Like to the pure and glassy brooks 

Which have for generations been 
Mirrors of childhood's joyous looks, 

Disporting on their margents green ; 
And on from age to age still run 

Through the same wild and flow'ry ways, 
Shining as brightly in the sun, 

And gladdening all who on them gaze ! 

But peace, thou garrulous old man, 
Well-nigh a child again, indeed ! 

Forbear these memories to scan, 

And briefly with thy task proceed ; — 

The nattering task, to be a foil 

To the fine pencil of a Doyle. 

Once more, then — Once upon a time — 
For be it or in prose or rhyme, 



The Abode of the Wicked Fairy. 



A Fairy tale should so begin — ■ 
A King and Queen 
Enthroned were seen, 
A lovely, loyal isle within. 
Their crowns to wear 
Without a care, 
One blessing only .they had wanted — 
To that sea-girdled realm an heir; 
And Fate at length their wish had granted. 

It was a girl ; but quite contented 
They gazed upon the little maid. 

No odious Salique law prevented 
By her the sceptre being swayed; 
And they had heard of an isle afar 
Where a. Queen was vastly popular, 
And prayed that their child might some day. be 
As good and as kind a Queen as she. 

On their kingdom's coast, in a lonely tower 
Blackened by time and rent by blast, 

A Fairy of prodigious power 

Had dwelt, 't was said, for ages past. 



The Christening of the Princess. 



And, lo ! upon the sands hard by 
She sits and mutters moodily, 
Crouching beneath her pall-like cloak, 

Nursing her crutch as she does her hate, 
While the carrion crows around her croak, 

And wonder hoiv long they have still to wait. 
Up on a sudden she starts, and shrieks, 
" My broom directly round to the door ! " 
Just as to-day Lady Ballarat speaks 

To " Buttons " who trembles her wig before ! 
In a minute she^s mounted and scudding away 

Over hill, over dale, over lake, over bay, 
Over town, over tower, over marsh, over wood, 

On that very ill wind which blows nobody good. 



With flambeau and with girandole 

The palace is ablaze ! 
King, Queen, and every courtly soul 

Await the seven Fays, 
All whose addresses they could find 
Invited, as time out of mind 



The Fairy Godmothers. 



The custom 'twas in Fairyland, 
Godmothers to the babe to stand : 




Which meant, of course, that each should stand some- 
Thing or other very handsome. 
E'en in our day some such reflection 
May guide sponsorial selection. 



The Fairies arrive at the Palace. 



They come ! They come ! Their golden cars 

Make the spangled sky more bright, 
And they shoot to earth like falling stars 
On a cloudless autumn night ! 
Ere porter, page, or chamberlain can pass the welcome word, 
The seven Fairy guests are seated at the festal board. 
But, ah ! on that fair picture falls full soon a fearful blot — 
The dark malicious features of the eighth, who had been forgot ! 

It just occurs to me, indeed, 
Ere with my story I proceed, 
That I, perhaps, in order strict 
The royal parents should depict. 

The Queen was young, and tall, and fair, 

With eyes a painter loves to study ; 
And had the fashionable hair, 

Between the flaxen and the ruddy. 

You might have travelled far to seek, 

As any courtier would have betted, 
A silkier peach-blossom cheek, 

To Rachel not the least indebted. 

10 



The Royal Parents. 



The King was past the middle age. 
And not particularly sage ; 




Corpulent, careless, jovial, fond 

Of — innocently, mind — gallanting ; 
He never went a step beyond. 

Ate, drank, and slept — 'twas whispered, snored 
Right royally, and would have roared 
If any one had hinted — Banting ! 



1 1 



C 2 



The Banquet. 



Here at the banquet him behold, 

With Fairy after Fairy flirting, 
Pledging them in his cup of gold — 
U A loving cup " he seems asserting ; 
Not being in the least aware 
That o'er him by the slenderest hair 
Is hanging what the poets please 
To call the sword of Damocles. 
Alas ! over how many easy chairs 
Are dangling such daggers by similar hairs ! 



The banquet is over; the baby brought, 

And the gifts of the godmothers humbly besought. 

By six they are kindly and promptly bestowed, 

In the good old-fashioned Fairy mode — 

Virtue and Beauty, Good-nature and Grace, 

Talent — and Taste, which is rarer to find. 
The seventh has quietly quitted her place, 

And listens, unnoticed, the hangings behind. 
Before they have missed her, or any word more said, 
Out hobbles the spiteful old Fairy aforesaid : 

12 



The Curse ! 



" My young sisters have all been so liberal, King, 
They have left an old body no blessing to bring ; 




And therefore, although from the deed I 'm averse, 
I '11 breathe on the sweet little darling — a curse ! 
A spindle she through her hand shall run, 
And die before she be twenty-one ! " 



13 



A Scene of Consternation. 



Up started the Queen, with a shriek that might 

Have melted a heart of malachite! 

The King fell back in his chair of state, 

With a groan so loud, and a shock so great, 

That, but for the loyal arms around, 

He had brought his throne and himself to the ground; 

An accident^ I regret to say, 

Which has happened to kings in our day. 

Five Maidens of Honour fell into fits, 

Two Lords in Waiting lost their wits, 

Though some to credit the fact refuse, 

Asserting their lordships had none to lose. 

The Halberdiers ceased standing at ease, 

Getting very uneasy about the knees ; 

Of the Gardes-du-corps, the helmed chief 

Gave way perforce to his manly grief 

And to hide his tears from his steel-clad bands, 

A vizor made of his clasped hands ; 

The Jester to jest made a vain endeavour, 

And stood looking more like a fool than ever. 

H 



Mitigation of the Malediction. 



Just at that critical moment out skipped 
The seventh Fairy, and sweetly smiled, 




As up to the cradle she lightly tripped, 

And touched with her wand the sleeping child, 
'Dread not," she cried, "the doom you've heard: 
The last is still the strongest word, 



*5 






The Royal Gratitude. 



And that word to speak have I. 

Of her wound she shall not die, 

But under my protection lie 

In slumber for a century ; 

When a charming Prince shall wake her, 

And his wife with transport make her." 

How could any words express 

The gratitude of Queen and King ? 
Yet, if the truth I must confess, 

Gratitude is so rare a thing, 
Either upon or off a .throne, 
That 'tis in words, and words alone, 
Most people's gratitude is shown. 
Well, in this case there was nought they could do, 
But say they were grateful, most grateful ; and who, 
Considering all things, can doubt it was true ? 

None, surely, ivho see that Sovereign stand 
At his palace gate, with his royal hand 
As nearly as possible pressed on that part 
Of his portly person which covers his heart ; 

16 



Departure of the Christening Party. 



Or the joy that beams o'er the whole expanse 
Of his Majesty's ample countenance, 
As he does the best that he can to bend 
And bow farewell to his Fairy friend. 



And that old hag who, out of spite, 

Caused by an unintended slight, 

Had doomed an innocent to death, 

With one cold blast of her blighting breath : 

Look how she glares with impotent wrath. 

As home she drives in her dragon car, 
Scaring the urchins out of her path, 

Who consider her equipage singular. 
On her broom she swept to revenge with pleasure, 
But returns in her sulky now at leisure. 



Those of our curious readers who 
Peep into old books as well as new, 
May have learned that after this event 
There was passed an Act of Parliament 

18 






The Act for the Prevention of Spinning. 



Which made it felony to spin 

With spindles, or keep spindles in 

Any dwelling of any sort ; 

And according to the last report, 

In Fairyland 't is remembered still 

As the "Mustn't Spin with Spindles Bill/ 



Well, seventeen years have swiftly flown ; 
The babe has into girlhood grown, 
A girlhood such as might have been, 
That of the famed Egyptian Queen, 
Whose love to win, the Roman cost 
A world, and counted it well lost ; 
Or hers of Troy, whose fatal charms 
For ten long years kept Greece in arms. 
I leave the reader to decide, 
As he may fancy, dark or fair ; 
Never would I presume to guide 
Another's taste in matters where 
" De gustibus" he might protest 
Clearly, " Non disputandum est." 



19 i) 2 



In an Idle Hour^ the Princess 



Whate'er, dear Sir, you most adore, 
Fancy her that — and something more ! 

One fatal morning, left alone, 

And having nought on earth to do — 
A state of things which oft is known 

To lead all sorts of mischief to — 
Rambling the great old building round, 

In which for safety's sake they kept her, 
She heard what seemed the faintest sound 
Of singing in some distant chamber ; 
And up a narrow turret stair, 
There being none to intercept her, 
Through a dark low-browed porch, that frowned 
As though it bade her to beware, 
She hastily began to clamber. 
Breathless, at length she stood before 
An old worm-eaten oaken door, 
Which on its creaking hinges swung 

Slowly and heavily to and fro, 
And bore to the song behind it sung 
A burden that boded deeper woe — 

20 



Ascends the Turret Stair 



'T was a sad and solemnly chanted strain. 
The piteous wail of a soul in pain. 



SONG. 

Time was these rayless orbs were bright, 
And lovers languished in their light ; 
And these dull ears drank deeply in 
The words that trusting maidens win. 
Oh, would that Fate had been more kind, 
And I been born both deaf and blind ! 
I had not then been left forlorn, 
To wish that I had neer been born ! 

Who could behold that noble face, 
And link it with a soul so base r 
Who could those honeyed accents hear, 
And falsehood in the pleader fear ? 
Come, Death, and close the lids in sleep 
Of eyes that serve me but to weep ! 
Call from the quiet grave for me : 
I listen with my heart for thee ! 

2 l 



The Occupant of the Turret Chamber. 



The singer was a wrinkled crone. 

Whom age and grief had caused to dwindle 
Till she was nought but skin and bone : 
And there she sat and made her moan, 

Spinning with an old-fashioned spindle, 
As in defiance of the Act, 
But quite unconsciously, in fact ; 
For, blind, she couldn't read a word of it ; 
And deaf, she never could have heard of it. 

Ended her song, the woman wept, 

And in her lap the spindle laid, 
The while with wasted hand she swept 

The tears away that slowly strayed 
Adown her cheeks — sad caves of care — 

White as her wild dishevelled hair. 

The Princess, who had never seen 

Such spinning in her life before, 
And kept in ignorance had been 

Of the strange fate for her in store, 



22 



The Fatal Hour arrives ! 



Lightly the threshold crossed, and bent 

Upon the work a curious eye, 
Then raised the spindle with intent 

Her skill at twirling it to try. 

The hour had come ! At Fate's command, 
The sharp point pierced the maiden's hand ! 
With pain till then quite unacquainted, 
First she screamed, and then she fainted. 

That instant through the castle rang 

Fiendish laughter, and a peal 
Of thunder, followed with a clang 

That made the ancient turrets reel. 
The King and Queen, and all the Court, 

Who'd just arrived upon a visit, 
Hearing the terrible report, 

Had barely time to ask " What is it r ' 
When a strange stupor seized on all 
In chamber, garden, kitchen, hall : 

2 3 



The Catastrophe. 



And to her couch by fairy aid, 
Borne like a blossom on the air, 

The lovely maid was gently laid, 
A hundred years to slumber there 



24 




PART II. 



(JOME and gone a hundred years ! 
Oh, what an age it is to say ! 
Ye who have lived so long — appears 

It to ye now more than a day ? 
O Time ! thou shouldst be counted by 

Not weeks and months, but joys and fears 
Seasons I ve known like seconds fly ! 

An hour has seemed a hundred years ! 



The Hunting Party. 



A hundred Winters have shed their snows, 

To be smiled away by as many Springs ; 
As many Summers renewed the rose, 

And once again brown Autumn brings 
His purple clusters, his yellow sheaves, 
And is changing to gold the linden's leaves. 
Once again the hunter's horn 
Is heard on the hills at early morn, 
And through the coppice lightly bounds 

The stag iproused from his ferny bed 
By the nearer cry of the cruel hounds, 

Haughtily tossing his antlered head. 
Over the plain like the wind he sweeps, 
Into the river broad he leaps ; 
Bravely breasts the rapid tide ; 
Rushes up the sedgy side ; 
Shakes from his flanks a silver flood, 
And is lost in the depths of a pathless wood. 



Across the plain, and through the stream, 
Hound and huntsman have followed fast ; 

26 




E 2 



The Prince. 



The hunter's knife in its sheath may stay, — 
That stag will never be brought to bay. 

Foremost of the cavalcade, 
Halting beneath the forest shade, 
Patting the neck of his noble roan, 
Stood the heir to a foreign throne. 

A royal youth of matchless mien, 
Like the princely Dane of old, 
Of fashion the glass, and of form the mould. 

His riding suit of velvet green 
Richly guarded with Venice gold ; 

Through the slashes, violet silk 
Of Lyons, drawn with taste and care ; 
His supple boots, I trow, they were 
Of cordovan of the same hue' ; 
His cap of velvet, violet too, 

From which a feather, white as milk, 
Drooped gracefully, his ear behind, 
Or dallied with the wooing wind. 
Over his shoulder loosely flung, 
A broad embroidered baldrick hung; 

28 



His Surprise at the Solitude of the Enchanted Island. 



With tasselled horn and gipeciere ; 
A hunting-knife upon his thigh, 
The hilt of sculptured ivory, 
On whicrr, 'twixt boar and man, the strife 
Was carven to the very life. 

In short, I may say, without fear, 
Tha^ take his Highness altogether, 
Face, figure, dress from spur to feather, 

A more bewitching cavalier 
Ne'er stepped in shoe- or in boot-leather. 



Hither he sailed in quest of sport, 
But never a King and never a Court 
Has he heard of since he leapt ashore, 
And he wonders who rules this island o'er. 
Nothing with life, save beast or bird, 

Has hitherto met his eager eye ; 
No rustic tending flock or herd, 

No traveller plodding the footpath by ; 
No maiden at a cottage door, 
Teaching the woodbine to clamber o'er ; 

29 



The Castle in the Wood 



No cottage ! — and therefore there couldn t be 

A maiden at its door to see. 

There reigns a silence, solemn and strange, 

Unbroken, save by the bitterns cry, 
Or the whimper of the dogs that range 

Around the forest hopelessly : 
The staunchest hound in all the pack 
Has slunk with a howl from the brushwood back ; 
The hardiest hunter in all the train 
Has striven to enter that wood in vain. 
The stag, they swear, must a fairy have been, 
To have passed those serried trunks between ! 
-They were not so much out, as will soon be seen. 

The Prince, who has mounted a hillock, sees, 
Over the tops of the tallest trees, 
A castle in the distance rear 

Its battlements grey on a rocky steep, 
Fenced around by that forest drear: 

The flanking toivers and massive keep 
Of venerable age appear* 

# Fide heading to Part II. 
30 



Recalls an Old Nursery Ballad to the Prince's Mind. 



And suddenly to his mind recalls 

Of his Breton nurse a ballad old, 
And wonders whether those wood-girt walls 
The charm of his boyish dreams enfold. 
The fancy moves him more and more 
As he murmurs the ancient legend o'er, 
To the melody quaint of that simple rhyme 
Which his cradle has rocked to many a time 
Long before he the words could scan, 
And hope in his heart he might be the man ! 



BALLAD. 

In a wood there is a tower, 

Sing a-down, a-down-a ! 
In the tower a lady's bower, 

Sing a-down, a-down-a ! 
In the bower a maiden fair, 

Sing a-down, a-down-a ! 
Day and night she slumbers there, 

Sing a-down, a-down-a ! 

3 1 



The Ballad. 



None may thread that forest deep, 

None ascend that castle keep, 

None may break that maiden's sleep, 

Sing a-down, a-down-a ! 

Where the wood, I pray ye, show, 

Sing a-down, a-down-a ! 
Through which Cupid cannot go ? 

Sing a-down, a-down-a \ 
Where the castle walled about, 

Sing a-down, a-down-a ! 
Strong enough to keep him out ? 

Sing a-down, a-down-a ! 
Love the destined Prince shall guide 
To the Sleeping Beauty's side, 
With a kiss to wake his bride ! 

Sing a-down, a-down-a ! 

There are twenty verses more or so ; 
But two are enough, I trow, to show 
The sort of stuff they sang long ago 
To an infant heir to a crown-a ! 
And which now would never go " down-a." 

3 2 



The Prince resolves to trij his Fortune, 



The Prince, however, paused not then 

Or words or tune to criticise ; 
But shouted to his merry men — 

Not that his men were really merry — 

In fact they were quite otherwise- 
Sulky at being thrown out, very ; 
But so 'twas the fashion them to call, 
And therefore he shouted, " My merry men all ! 
We have lost a stag ; but what if here 
In this covert is lodged a dainty dear f 
T is a hind that my heart is fain to follow, 
If the wood will give me a fair view-holh?v ! " 

Shockingly bad, I must confess ; 

But then in the days of Good Queen Bess, 

That golden age 

Of the English stage, 
Such plays upon words were quite the rage. 
Then why should critics vent their ire on 
The puns of Brough, Burnand, and Byron ? 
They only do, with more decorum, 
What the Swan of Avon did before 'em. 

33 



And sets out on his Expedition. 



The merry men had not a guess 

Of what his Royal Highness meant ; 
But so harangued, could do no less 

Than give him full and free consent 
To follow his own inclinations ; 
As persons in exalted stations 
Will sometimes do without permission : 

And so they filled him a stirrup cup, 
And drinking success to his expedition, 

With loud hurrahs they cheered him up. 



The spur he gave to his noble horse ; 

O'er crimson heath and golden gorse 

Galloped the steed at a pas cle charge, 

Nor swerved when he came to the thorny marge 

Of the dark, dense wood, but cleared at a bound 

The triple, tall cheval de frise 
Of brambles fencing it all around, 

And dashed at the nearest rank of trees, 
As he would have done, at the trumpet's sound, 

'Gainst a troop of hostile cavalry. 

3+ 




35 



F Z 



The Fairy Friend. 



Wonder ! oh, wonder ! 
They move asunder, 

And leave to the Prince an entrance free ! 
As on he presses the wood divides, 
And up the steep ascent he rides, 
With flushing cheek and beating heart ; 
Not seeing who plays an opening part 
In this fairy " Piece de cir Constance? 
And yet did he upwards cast a glance, 
He might mark where, in the clear blue sky, 

All light and white as a fleecy cloudy 
A female form floats gracefully ; 
At whose fairy fingers' slightest touch, 
Their branches tangled never so much, 
The gnarled oaks relax their clutch, 

And towering pines, and cedars proud, 
Limes, and elms, and beeches bow 
Their lofty heads in homage low, 
And backward at her bidding go 
On either hand. The forest through 
Forming a stately avenue 
The very gates of the castle to. 



36 



1 







37 



He arrives at the Castle Gate. 



The drawbridge is down — the castle doors 
All open : he hastes from his steed to leap. 







Stretched on a settle the warder snores, 
Leaving his wicket itself to keep. 

He enters the courtyard. 'Gainst the wall 
An aged falconer, hawk on hand, 
And a gay young courtier lounging stand, 

. 38 




Apparently in earnest talk. 
In the mystery of hawking deep 

They might haye been ; but falconer, hawk. 
And gay gallant are each and all 
At present yery fast asleep. 
Into the guard-room he passes. Lo ! 
The yeomen are sleeping all in a row ; 



39 



The Sleepers. 



Good men and true — deny it who will 
Under arms they are standing still. 




Into the cellar^ a passing peep 
Shows him the butler fallen asleep 
Over a hogshead of Malvoisie — 
Flagon and cup both empty be. 



40 



The Sleepy Councillors. 



Look at his nose, 

You can well suppose 
He had helped himself to whichever was stronger, 

Till the drowsy spell 

Upon him fell, 
And he couldn't help himself any longer. 



Tlfe£ 




In the banquet-hall, around 

The great oak table, some eight or ten 

Noble lords and gentlemen 
Of the privy council next he found 

4 1 



In an Anteroom the Prince discovers 



Seated all in slumber sound, 

Nodding over their fruit and wine, 

Just as they might have slept and snored 

Oer matters of weight at the council-board. 
They had clearly been lucky enough to dine 

Before the fate they could not avert 

For the first time made them, I opine, 

Unconscious of their own desert. 



He mounts a flight of marble stairs, 

And in an anteroom discovers 
A maid of honour taking a nap, 

And near her one of a score of lovers. 
She had been reading — -what? Her prayers : 

The book lay open in her lap — 
It might be a missal, and it might not — 
It matters little at this time what — 
There are so many books, both great and small, 
O'er which one is certain asleep to fall, 
That a charm is more needed now to make 
The reader of them keep awake. 

42 



A Sleep]) Pair — of Lovers. 



But 'tis plain enough that the saucy youth 
Was about to snatch a kiss, forsooth ! 




She wasn't asleep then, I suspect ; 
For a close observer may detect 



43 



G 2 



Th e Presence- Chamber 



Her hand is raised to wave him away — 
Though a smile on her cheek remains, to say 
She wouldn't frown if he didn't obey. 

Into the presence-chamber, there 

The King reclines in his great arm-chair ; 

The Queen on his shoulder calmly reposes ; 
Her parrot near her has found a perch , 
And is like their Majesties, "fast as a church" 
The court fool, crouched at his master s foot, 
In his motley suit — 
As his bauble mute- — - 
Dreams of how many his cap might wear 
If placed on the heads of all it fits. 

Behind him a page on the chair- back dozes ; 
And proudly in front of the royal pair, 
The Queen s pet pug in a clog's sleep sits, 
Upturning the pertest of all pug noses. 
To the ground has rolled 
A cup of gold, 
Dropped by the King in his sore dismay, 
When they suddenly filled his cup of woe 

44 



and its Occupants. 



With the news of his daughters fate that day, 
Exactly one hundred years ago ! 




But where is she — that matchless fair 
A fated Prince shall win and wear, 
The Beauty born, to be his bride? 
For. oh ! no longer can he doubt 

45 



The Chamber Door. 



For whom the matted boughs divide — 
For whom the portals open wide. 

Yet when was love its fears without ? 
So often when its hopes are highest — 
So often when the goal is nighest — 
Beguiled, betrayed, deserted, crost — 
The deepest, truest, tried the most ! 
His heart, but now. that wildly beat, 

Has almost ceased a pulse to know ; 
His breath he holds — -his eager feet 

Seem suddenly to earth to grow. 

At the end of a corridor, 

A closely curtained porch before, 

He stands transfixed, as though he were 
Only one human being more 
Subjected to the fairy spell, 

And for a century had there 
Remained a sleeping sentinel. 

Fate will not suffer longer pause. 
Aside, with trembling hand, he draws 

46 



The Sleeping Beauty. 



The drapery of cloth of gold, 
That falls in many a gorgeous fold 
From the rich cornice to the floor, 
And gently touches the gilded door 
That open in an instant flies, 
Disclosing to his dazzled eyes 

A chamber filled with rosy light, 

Which from some fount mysterious flings 
Its tender rays upon a bed 
Of silver tissue, canopied 

With velvet as the snow-drift white, 
Looped up with bands of orient pearl, 

And curtained round with lace so fine, 
The gossamer might claim the work. 
Fairies and elves in mazy rings 
Throughout it seem to dance and whirl, 
Or in the filmy meshes lurk, 

As guardians of the form divine ; 
Fit jewel for a case so rare, 
In charmed sleep recumbent there. 



47 



The Spell is Broken. 



O happy Prince, whom love and fate 
To favour have their powers allied ! 
By fate impelled — with love elate — 

One bound has brought him to her side ! 
There is a whirring in his ears 
As of a thousand tiny wings, 
And animated now appears 

Each elf and fay in all the rings 
Wrought in those curtains fine and rare, 
Which melt, at his approach, to air; 

And der his head, and round the bed, 
By the protecting Fairy led, 
Group after group revolving Jly 
In joyous wild expectancy ! # 

He sees or heeds them not : for one 
Sole object hath he sight alone. 
He lifts the long luxuriant tresses 

That partly veil her cheek — he takes 
Her hand — his lips on hers he presses. — 

The spell is o'er — she starts, she wakes 

* Vide Frontispiece. 
48 



Conclusion. 



Raises to him in sweet surprise 
Her large and lustrous loving eyes. 

" And is it you, my Prince ? " Oh, why 

Record his rapturous reply? 
Indeed, who is there at this day 
Knows what the Prince did really say ? 
E'en the first teller of the tale 
Felt there his information fail ; 
And can I, then, expected be 
To know it, any more than he ? 
Besides, the author always flings 

On you the burthen and the bother, 
To fancy all the charming things 

The lovers said to one another. 
Moreover, by his computation, 
They talked four hours without cessation ! # 
And why the breaking of the spell, 
And all that there and then befell, 
Should I in random rhyme rehearse, 

When England's laurelled bard hath sung, 

* " Enfin il y avoit quartres heures quiPs se parloient." 

La Belle au Bois Dormante. 

49 H 



Conclusion. 



With all the power of English verse 

And all the charm of English tongue, 
The rushing back to love or strife 
Of " all that long-pent stream of life " r 
What folly to attempt to rival, 
Of that sweet " Day-dream," " The Revival." # 



No ; here my task I gladly close : 

No more the pencil claims the pen ; 
And every child the story knows, 

And all that happened " after then." 
Rather, as free the Laureate leaves 

Each one, according to his mind 
Or any web his fancy weaves, 

A meaning to the tale to find, 
Let me conclude with a translation 
Of Charles Perrault's own />ero-ration. 



* Poems by Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate. i2mo. 
London: Moxon, 1855. 



50 



L Envoy. 



" Some time for a husband to wait, 

Who is young, handsome, wealthy, and tender, 
May not be a hardship too great 

For a maid whom love happy would render ; 
But to be for a century bound 

To live single, I fancy the number 
Of Beauties but small would be found 

So long who would patiently slumber. 
To lovers who hate time to waste, 

And minutes as centuries measure, 
I would hint, those who marry in haste, 

May live to repent it at leisure ; 
Yet so ardently onward they press, 

And on prudence so gallantly trample, 
That I haven't the heart, I confess, 

To urge on them Beauty's example." # 



Four and Twenty Fairy Tales. By Perrault and others. i2mo. 
London: G. Routledge and Co., 1858. 

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